


sit back (watch the stars align)

by wholewheatbreddy



Category: Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Cockroaches, Crack, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hugs, Humor, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Tags May Change, bubble tea, mentions of human experimentation, time travel (sort of)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23201326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholewheatbreddy/pseuds/wholewheatbreddy
Summary: Short fic requests done for 1.5k followers on Instagram. Mostly just fluff celebrating TwoSet hitting two million subscribers (as most of these were written around that time), but there is some AU and NSFW content. Might add more if I feel like filling a few more prompts. Thanks for checking this out!
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 5
Kudos: 57





	sit back (watch the stars align)

**something about hands**

"I think I broke my fingers," Brett groans. "Like, I know I've powered through way worse, but it's been so long. I was sweating so bad, and all I was thinking was 'don't sweat onto the fingerboard, don't sweat onto the violin, don't fuck up--'"

"Dude," Eddy sighs, pats him on the back. His hand lingers for a little too long -- Brett feels a familiar flush rise on his cheeks. "It was fine. I fucked up plenty, too. But we made it."

"Yeah," Brett mumbles. He slips his hand into Eddy's, brushes his thumb over the calluses -- years and years of hard work have left a tangible mark on them both. But this is something Brett will cherish. All those hours of practicing have paid off in a way neither of them could ever have imagined.

Eddy smiles at him, shyly -- not the one he does for the camera, but something softer, sweeter.

"Practice?" Eddy prompts, and for a fleeting moment, Brett sees that idealistic boy who'd dreamed up something incredible -- something far beyond what he could even hope to envision.

"Maybe later," Brett says, leans in to press his forehead against Eddy's. "It can wait for now."

-

**bubble tea shenanigans**

"I love you," Brett sighs. He stretches his arms out in a futile attempt to grab the bubble tea. "Gimme. I'm tired, and I need sugar."

"Doesn't crashing after the initial high make you even more sleepy?" Eddy teases. "You really are like a koala. Except instead of eating literal poison leaves, you ingest unhealthy amounts of bubble tea instead."

"I'm fried." Brett slumps even further into the couch. "The only way you can resurrect me is with bubble tea. So hand it over."

"Not your prince charming, huh?" Eddy chuckles. "Here I was thinking I could kiss you, and you'd suddenly wake up from a hundred years of Tchaikovsky."

Brett feels his face warm. He grabs a pillow, and smushes it into his cheek. "That works too," he mumbles. Then he sees the shit-eating grin on Eddy's face. "But give me the bubble tea, and then we'll talk."

-

**time travel**

"So let me get this straight," Brett says. "You--" he points at older-Eddy here, who is eerily similar to the Eddy he knows. He's a little broader, a little more confident in his body. But his energy, his enthusiasm -- it's unmistakably _Eddy_. "played the entire Tchaik accompaniment. On one violin. Because you didn't think you could learn it on piano in time."

"Yep," Older-Eddy grins. He waggles his fingers. "Arranging that was hell, and learning it was worse. But I did it."

Eddy snorts. "Sounds like something I'd do, honestly."

"Yeah," Brett says. "Looks like you haven't changed. I'm unrecognizable."

"I resent that remark," Older-Brett demurs. "Still can't play in tune, so what you're saying is wrong, obviously."

"No, no," Older-Eddy says, a grin spreading on his face. "What he means is that you're too old, bald, and greasy."

"That's pretty sacrilegious of you to say--"

"Not to interrupt whatever's happening," Eddy says, always the voice of reasoning. "But I feel like a lot's going to happen in the coming years, and that whatever nonsense you guys are spewing will be very relevant soon."

"Yep," Older-Brett says, pops the p. "You know what advice I have for you, though?"

Older-Eddy leans in, conspiratorially. "Practice."

-

**post-live hugging**

“Holy shit,” Brett says, wipes sweat from his hair. “I’m so -- I can’t believe we did it. We actually did it, Eddy. We -- we -- ”

“I know, dude,” Eddy says, and if his voice shakes a little, Brett doesn’t call him out for it. “Thank you. Thank you for going along with my stupid joke, thanks for coming so far with me all this way--fuck, thank you for _everything_ \--”

Brett opens his mouth to respond with something, anything--a thousand ways to say _I love you_ and _no, thank YOU_ ready to spill at a moment’s hesitation. Then Eddy’s startlingly close, strong arms wrapping around him, all the vulnerability he held back during the stream clear in the curling of his spine, the hunching of his posture. He buries his face into the junction between Brett’s neck and shoulder, and Brett feels Eddy's tears seeping through the fabric.

“I love you,” Eddy sniffles, always so painfully sincere, and Brett swallows the lump in his throat, wraps his arms around him. 

They’re both sweaty and exhilarated, leftover adrenaline from the live still coursing through their bodies. But that all fades away to this -- to this moment, of Eddy holding him, sobbing into his shirt. To Brett standing stock still in the living room, barely able to process what they’ve manage what they’ve achieved.

He takes a deep breath. Eddy’s broken breaths are deafening in the sudden silence.

“I love you too.”

-

**criminal eddy/cop brett**

“Again, Chen?”

Eddy turns, slowly, deliberately. His eyes zero in on the gun trained on him. “Officer Yang.”

Brett nods, all steely professionalism, careful not to let anything spill through the cracks of his facade. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. It’s rare that I ever encounter someone _famous_ , so I’ll make this quick. Hands up, and drop any weapons concealed on your person.”

Eddy steps forwards, feline grace and predatory dominance present in every move he makes. The careful blankness of Brett’s expression barely holds -- Eddy sizes him up like a snake considering a mouse, gaze drilling through him. Then a smile breaks over his face, wild and unrestrained. The scar tissue on the left side of his face pulls with it, so it looks more like a snarl than anything. Brett doesn’t think about _why_ he’s here -- the pictures had been enough for him to understand.

“Not scared, are you?” Eddy says, gleeful. “I like that. I like you, Officer.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Brett says, dry. He clicks the safety -- mostly as an intimidation tactic, though Eddy doesn’t even blink. “We can chat in the interrogation room, Chen. I’ll say it again. Hands up. Drop all weapons-- _all_ of them. I’ve got a team with me, ready to sedate, and I’d really rather not need to call on them.”

“Didn’t do your research, huh? Your superiors sent you here without telling you what I am?” Eddy spreads his hands, completely lax, like they’re just having a chat. Brett resists the urge to roll his eyes at the melodramatics, but a chill runs through him--Eddy had said _what_ , not _who_ . “Never told you about that embarrassing little piece of history? I’m quite offended -- but not very surprised. It’s quite the black mark on their record, you know, and I wouldn’t go around blabbing it to just anyone. But _you_. I’ll tell you.”

Brett stays resolutely silent. Eddy takes it as a cue to continue. “Don’t bother signalling shit, by the way. Took care of that before you got here, so we’re alone. Anyways--”

“I’ll shoot,” Brett says, voice somehow lacking the sudden vulnerability he feels. The odds are stacked against him -- the most deadly criminal in the country is _right before him_ , and all he has is a fucking shotgun and a taser.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Eddy purrs. He folds his arms, completely confident. Brett’s eyes flick to the action -- and then Eddy’s up in his face, knocking the gun out of his hands and restraining Brett with inhuman speed and strength.

“What the fuck--”

“Failed super soldier,” Eddy snarls, fury colouring his tone, roughening the timbre of his voice. “Took me from my mum and dad when I was _five_. Used me as a guinea pig for years. Do you know what that does to a child? Do you know what _happened_ to me? Do you know what happens to a person’s mind when you give them a knife and a gun and set them onto a hundred different undesirable experiments as _training_? This happens. Now the government needs to clean up all those loose ends.”

“So they sent me,” Brett finishes, realization dawning. “Because I--”

“Violin class,” Eddy recites, voice growing distant. “You were a prodigy. You were _incredible_. And I heard you, and I wanted to play with you. And they got that out of me, used it against me. Asked a five year old who he admired, and turned it on me. Time and time again. You’re here now. You’re real.”

“I am,” Brett says. “I--”

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Eddy says, and now his voice turns softer, sweeter, honey and molasses and warm apple pie. “but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Brett asks, bewildered. His whole world’s been swept out from under his feet, and the cold, calm persona is in shreds. “I don’t--”

Eddy stares at him, unreadable. “Sorry,” he says, again, hands coming to rest on Brett’s face. He looks painfully vulnerable for a brief, brief, moment.

Then Eddy slams Brett’s head into the ground, and everything goes dark.

-

**summer days**

“You know,” Brett says. “Summer is really a lot nicer than Vivaldi makes it out to be. I mean, when it’s not burning my skin off.”

“Australia summers are the _worst_ ,” Eddy agrees. “And ugh, the _cockroaches_. The fucking cockroaches get me every time.”

“Don’t worry,” Brett grins. “I’ll protect you from the big bad buggies.”

Eddy sits up in his hammock, leans over to gently smack Brett. “What’re you gonna do? Defend me with bubble tea straws and a violin?”

“One time,” Brett sighs. “I kill a cockroach with a straw one time, and you act like this. How would the community react if they knew, huh?”

“They’d ask for a video of you killing a cockroach for three mill.” Eddy lies back down, wiggles a little to get comfortable. “See, I don’t know what I’d do without you here.”

Brett hums. It’s a lovely evening, wind cool on his skin, running playful fingers through his hair. There’s not a lot of light pollution here, so the stars wink at him from their places in the sky. 

They’re content to lie in silence. Brett finds himself drifting off--and then Eddy’s voice breaks through the quiet.

“Brett?” Eddy whispers. He’s completely still. “It would be really nice if you had some straws on hand right now.”

“Cockroach?”

Eddy covers his eyes. “Kill it, please?”

-

**what's the rush?**

“Go practice,” Eddy says, and Brett echoes him. Eddy tries to hold in his laugh. “So you won’t have memory slips like us.”

-

“I did want to keep going,” Brett muses, after they’ve made sure there weren’t any problems saving the live. “It was fun. Really fun.”

“Mm,” Eddy says. He doesn’t look up from where he is on the floor, packing his violin up. “The acoustics were kinda terrible, and the audio was really crackly. Don’t think anyone minded though, so it’s fine.”

“Ugh,” Brett groans, drags his palms down his face. “I’m so tired. It’s ten in the morning, and I’m already tired. Can someone just -- like, practice for me or something?”

“Are you too tired to fuck me into the ground?” Eddy says, completely out of the blue, and Brett whips his head around, stares incredulously at him. Eddy grins. “See, now you’re not tired at all.”

“I _am_ ,” Brett sighs. “I refuse to do any fucking of any kind. My legs can barely support my body, dude, they’re shaking so bad. If you wanna do anything, I’m down. As long as I don’t have to do much, I’m fine.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddy laughs. “Don’t really wanna...desecrate the ground where we played the Tchaik, so get your ass to the bedroom.”

Brett grumbles as he stands up -- and then Eddy picks him up like a sack of potatoes, and hauls him all the way there. 

“Asshole,” Brett yells. Eddy tosses him onto the bed, and the air escapes out of his lungs in a _whoosh_. “That was completely uncalled for--”

“I’m taking care of you, dude,” Eddy says, faux-wounded. “I do _so much_ for you, and you treat me like this? Rude. See if I suck your dick or not.”

“I’m game,” Brett says immediately, which is completely rational, because Eddy gives the _best_ head. “I apologize for everything I’ve said. Go right ahead.”

Eddy raises an eyebrow in disbelief (the hypocrite, he’s already yanking Brett’s sweats down).“Yeah, yeah,” he says, infuriating smile still in place. He presses his face against Brett’s dick through his boxers, nuzzles against it, breathes him in. “Mm.”

“Don’t tease--” Brett pants, head tipping backwards when Eddy laps at the bulge through the fabric. “Oh, fuck--”

As much as Eddy likes to undersell his talents, he’s exceptional at most of the things he puts his mind to. Which Brett understands very, very well. Especially when Eddy deepthroats like a fucking _pro_ , mouth warm and wet, throat tight around him. He pulls off with a lewd pop, irises flicking upwards to glance at Brett from beneath his lashes. 

“Your cock’s always so pretty,” Eddy says, suckles gently at the head. “You’re pretty all over, actually.”

“Thanks,” Brett grunts, and lets out a shaky breath when Eddy works at what’s not in his mouth with his fist. His fingers tangle into Eddy’s hair and tug, gently. “My legs literally feel like jelly right now, dude, you’re doing god’s work.”

“Good to hear,” Eddy says, then groans when Brett pushes him back down. 

Brett sucks in a breath, bites his lip. He runs a hand through Eddy's hair, then taps his cheek.

"Can I--" 

"Go ahead," Eddy says, grins, grips at Brett's thigh. "I'll let you know if anything's up."

"Okay," Brett whispers, mostly to himself. "Okay, okay--"

He fucks up into Eddy's mouth -- slowly at first, shallow, rhythmic rolls of his hips. Then he picks up his pace, rutting fast and wild into Eddy's mouth. Eddy whines, squeezes his eyes shut, lashes wet with tears. 

"Fuck," Brett grits out. "Fuck, _fuck_ \--"

He holds Eddy tightly against him when he comes down his throat, and Eddy pulls off, licks his lips. "Damn."

"Come here," Brett says, sits up. All he wants to do is flop boneless into the bed, but he can't exactly leave Eddy hanging. "Your turn."

"My turn," Eddy agrees, and scoots forwards so that his clothed dick presses against Brett's thigh. He tugs his waistband down, slides a slick hand against his cock; Brett reaches out to join him, and Eddy groans, ducks his head. In a brief moment of post-orgasmic bliss, Brett admires how good they look together -- his smaller, paler hand under Eddy's, jerking him to completion. 

It's not long before Eddy makes an achy sort-of moan into Brett's ear, curling in on himself as his come splatters over their hands, onto Brett's legs. Brett sighs, licks the mess off his fingers -- when he glances up, Eddy's lips are parted, pupils nearly filling his irises.

"Sorry if that was too rough," Brett says, swipes his clean hand across his face. "How's your throat?"

"Okay," Eddy says, not seeming to register the question. Then he blinks, clears his throat. "Uh. I'm fine."

"Mm." Brett flops back, buries his face into the pillow. "There should still be some tissues on the cabinet. Don't want us to fall asleep all gross like this."

" _Dude_ ," Eddy groans, even though Brett knows the surliness is all an act -- Eddy's eyes crinkle with the strain of not smiling all-out. "You're getting me bubble tea later for this. _"I'm tired!"_ Tired my _ass_."

"I'll get you bubble tea," Brett grins, hidden in the warmth of the pillow. "Later."

**Author's Note:**

> hello! you've probably read most of these already if you follow me on IG (@/wonderbreddy). i thought it'd be nice to collect them and post them onto AO3. this fic will also serve as a way for me to post future prompt-based oneshots, so keep an eye out for more!  
> i might change the way each fic is posted here (so individual chapters rather than one large chapter with all the short prompts) based on what you guys think, so please let me know what you think!  
> UPDATE 2020/03/23: fixed some syntax errors


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